Chapter Text

“shouma trying to get a cat to like him and huffing that he's a dog person anyway in the end” - @rrofb

There are a lot of stray cats around Shion Kiba’s apartment, Shouma is starting to notice. It’s only natural that he picks up on these kinds of details, since he spends so much time there – not in the apartment itself, of course, but the bushes across the road – and on more than a few occasions he’s seen Shion set out food for them. Giving away the scraps of what was already an undoubtedly unsatisfying meal. How sweet of him.

Naturally, Shouma knows he can do it better. With all the wealth of the Kiba empire behind him, he could get those cats the finest food money can buy. They’d flock to him instead, depriving Shion of their warmth and company, reminding him that his life is in shambles and there is nothing that Shouma Shinonome can’t take from him.

The next time one wanders near his hiding spot, he decides to try it out.

“Hey cutie,” he says to the small orange tabby, peeling open the salmon sandwich he’d brought for lunch, “you want some of this?”

He extends his hand, and the cat approaches slowly, cautiously. He reaches out a little more, nudging the fish under its nose, and it sniffs at it, pauses for a second, then–

“What’s the point? Even with all those blue shells, I still couldn’t beat you.”

With a huff, Kazuma turns away, tossing his controller onto the sofa – then freezes as he feels his big brother’s hand on his head, gently ruffling his hair. Something in him wants to pull away, to just get up and storm off, because this is stupid, and it’s not like he hasn’t already tried his best, Kazumi is just better than him, and he’s not going to win no matter how many blue shells the game gives him or how many self-imposed handicaps Kazumi puts on himself.

“It’s alright if you want to stop playing, but... just one more? Please, Maa-kun?” Kazumi asks, and his voice is so kind and soft and warm and fuck, Kazuma just can’t say no to him when he asks like that. “You were so close last time, after all.”

“Alright,” Kazuma concedes, with a grumble that’s only partially legitimate. “Just one more.”

“shiranui right after diffriding trying to like. work out how to buy food. i just think it'd be funny” - @yamigedo

The hardest part of diffriding, it turns out, isn’t the process itself. It isn’t even trying to adjust to a new body and learning how to walk again without the weight of your tail and wings balancing you.

No, Shiranui thinks, as he tries unsuccessfully to swipe the small plastic card through the machine yet again. The hardest part of all this is attempting to navigate the inane intricacies of human society.

“U-umm,” the cashier says awkwardly, “you’ve got it the wrong way around. The–”

Shiranui glares at him, and the man shrinks back, face plastered with the same familiar look of fear that the dragon was used to seeing on his enemies before they died. Perhaps, even in human form, he retains some of the power of his evil eye after all.

“Th-the strip goes on this side,” the human stutters.

Furiously, Shiranui turns the card around, and this time the swipe is accompanied by a beep of success.

“At last,” he mutters as he gathers his purchases up. Humans just have to make everything they do so unnecessarily complicated, even trading currency and buying food. And this is the race that supposedly controls the destinies of him and his people?

Disgusting.

“Thank.. thank you for shopping with us...” the cashier trails off as Shiranui stalks out, making a mental note to have someone else get the groceries next time.

“ibuki trying to figure out what he wants to get mamoru for xmas and Having A Struggle” - @beastdeities

“I could get him a new jacket. His usual one was ruined in the attack on Dragon Empire.”

“That’s, uh–” Chrono hesitates. “Maybe that’s a bit morbid.”

“I can’t think of anything else,” Ibuki says flatly, not betraying his internal frustration. He’s never gotten a christmas gift for anyone before – he’s never had anyone that he wanted to give one to, not like this – and the process is proving a lot more difficult than he’d anticipated, even with the help of Chrono, who he’d turned to in desperation after being unable to come up with anything at all on his own. He doesn’t know what Mamoru wants, and it’s just going to be an insult if he gets something unfitting. It’d be like saying I don’t really know you at all.

“Well maybe,” Chrono suggests, after a moment, “if you really can’t think of anything, you can make him something. Like a meal. He’d like that, coming from you.”

There’s a long pause as Ibuki considers the idea. He usually eats prepackaged meals himself, but he can make some things – like toast. Or rice. Maybe pasta, although he tends to eat it on its own without sauce and – and entertaining the idea is a waste of time, he realises. He can feed himself decently enough, but he can’t cook. Not well enough to make a gift out of it.

“Hey... hey, it’s okay,” Chrono says, and Ibuki stiffens as he realises his face must have given something away. “I can help, if you want. I’ll find you a recipe... something good, but straightforward. All you’ll have to do is follow the instructions.”

Maybe Chrono is right, he thinks. Doing something for Mamoru that Ibuki wouldn’t do for himself, despite the difficulty, learning a new skill just for the sake of a gift – it’s a display of caring that doesn’t require him to awkwardly fumble around with words.

Slowly, he nods, and Chrono nods back.

“It doesn’t have to be a five-star meal. He’ll like it because it’s from you.”

“Morfessa putting Luard on a leash ;) (it's to stop him from being an idiot. totally) (muzzle optional)” - @littlelinor

“Hold still.”

I’m trying, Luard wants to say, but from behind the muzzle the words only come out as a muffled, garbled mess. It’s hard not to squirm when she’s pulling his arms back like that, a magical force keeping his head and shoulders pressed to the bed as she fastens the restrains around his wrists.

“Still so noisy, even after you’re muzzled~” The restrains safely fixed, Morfessa’s weight leans over him, warm breath brushing at the back of his neck. He shivers. “Now be a good boy and Stay. Quiet.”

The last two words are punctuated by slaps to his rear, not enough to hurt, but hard enough to force out a huff of surprise. He can’t see it, but he can practically sense her smirk, and fights the urge to try and talk back. He’d promised her, before all this, that he was going to be good, and he intends to stick to his word.

“One last thing,” she murmurs, and her fingers slip teasingly around his neck, his whole body stiffening in response as her nails brush across his skin, pressing just a little too hard in the softest and most vulnerable places. He wants to cry. It’s so frustrating to not even be able to beg.

The collar slips around his neck, and before he even has time to adjust to the feel of the cool, smooth leather, he’s being pulled back, the magic around him dissipating as Morfessa heaves him to his feet.

“There you go,” she says with another smirk, one that he can see this time as she guides him around to face her, a finger hooked under his collar. Her other arm circles around his waist, and he lets out a muffled yelp in spite of himself as she leans in and plants a kiss on the muzzle, right over his lips.

There’s a strange clicking noise as she does, and as she pushes him back, he realises what it was.

“See, I knew you could be a good boy if you put your mind to it.” She tugs on the newly attached leash and Luard stumbles, awkwardly righting himself as her eyes run up and down his body, no doubt admiring her handiwork.

“Lets see if you can keep it up once my guests arrive.”

Notes:

I HOPE THESE AREN'T TOO GARBO anyway hmu @cosmowreath and maybe I'll do this again sometime if people liked it?